


Tell Me My Fortune

by whalesfloatinginthesky



Series: Fantasy Hetalia AUs [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 23:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalesfloatinginthesky/pseuds/whalesfloatinginthesky
Summary: America (Alfred) goes to an unknown town for a short break in between his adventures with England (Arthur) to have his fortune told by a well-known fortune teller and he leaves with more than what he asked for.





	Tell Me My Fortune

“Welcome,” the voice was the main usher that invited and enticed Alfred enough to take one footstep into the purple tent. A tight, iron grip pulled him back just in time, just before fear began to settle in. In an instant, he felt the warm and heated breath of a man who was older than he was, in a soft English accent that felt like burnt salted caramel, the man spoke harshly and bitterly, “How many times must I tell you -- this is a total sham! A fake, a seductress, and a trick! Don’t you dare think of stepping foot in such a place!” Alfred simply offered up a casual laugh, pushed the grip away and let the words of warning follow the path of the wind as freely as they wished. He glanced around, his eyes widening in shock and fear at the scene of foggy darkness that had the consistency of pea soup. He looked forward, barely seeing the silhouette of a figure sitting in front of him, even with his spectacles. Its darkness allowed it to stand out against the dull green smoke. “For Christ’s sake,” the man growled, pulling onto the sleeves of Alfred’s shirt, forcing him to take a step back for once and think. Despite this, the man’s actions were limited and restricted as his green eyes were struck with fear. Alfred turned his head back meekly, his glasses barely falling off the tip of his nose as he hummed innocently, gesturing him to continue but something stopped him; his words were caught at the back of his throat, he felt as if a snake coiled around his neck and constricted his speech.

 

“Welcome,” the voice repeated itself again, a little more meekly this time, although there was an ice cold firmness lacing its words. Both men gasped in shock, their eyes widening as the fog floated away, making way to a lady in front of them. Rather than staring, Alfred sighed and pushed the man’s grip and presence away subtly to move take another step forward. The man continued to yell softly, his English accent being drowned out by his voice that screeched in agony and anger. “Just wait for me, Arthur,” Alfred reassured, glancing back with his signature smile that curled up on the corners of his face. His laugh lines and crow’s feet along the corners of his blue eyes were deep and prominent, showing signs of age and exhaustion in a charming way like old wine and cheese. At this, Arthur furrowed his thick eyebrows together in frustration as he hesitantly relaxed his grip and control on the “boy” in front of him. He sighed heavily in despair as he tapped his foot profusely with his arms crossed tightly on his chest as he shot him a glare. “You’re going to regret this,” he scowled, his face burning hot with a bright scarlet red that very well showed the seething rage that bubbles in the depths of his old heart. “Not today, Gramps,” Alfred teased, winking in a flirtatious manner as he puffed his chest upwards and began to march confidently like a soldier who won the biggest war in his lifetime. As for Arthur, the shade of red that his face tool at this time was one that contrasted his emerald green eyes starkly. 

 

Alfred stepped forward, inching forward step by step. It took him one step closer towards the person or creature (he had no idea what was ahead of him at this point) that occupied the space in front of him. Not too long ago, in a fit of rage, Arthur had left him alone in the pale orange tent with gold patterns on the surface, which made it look cheap despite its opulent and prettily simplistic patterns. He fiddled with his glasses as he moved on, silently appreciating the fact that while the fog slowly dissipated to form something like diaphanous silk that hung in the atmosphere, the sunshine somehow began to pour in like a rapid white water river. Once he reached the end of the path, he hesitantly lifted his head up to see a lady sitting in front of him. He widened his eyes, his cheeks flushed a pale pink as he took his hat off and placed it on his heart as if to muffle his loud, thumping heartbeats. She giggled the moment she glanced at him. She cocked her head to the side when their eyes met as if to give him a pinch at his side, to remind him that he was not in a dream. He failed to respond. A simple, monotonous smirk appeared on one corner of her lip as she gestured him to enter with the card she had been folding. He nodded, doing as she implied. The table’s an absolute mess, he remarked to himself as he managed to hold eye contact with her. There were two stacks of cards at one side of the table, each stack varying in size and neatness; on the other side was a pot stuffed to the brim with petite plants with big round leaves that resembled coins and in the middle of said pot was a tips jar, halfway full with gold coins with intricate details; also, behind the lady was a shelf that was had books and round bottles full of odd liquids that were decently arranged to appear neat. 

 

This had to be a dream, especially since small yellow dots floated around her like fairy dust and the objects around her, probably originating from the array of potted plants that hang off wire next to her. 

 

She sat up straight and stretched herself, grunting softly as she placed the two cards she folded back into their respective stacks. Alfred gazed at her rather dreamily, probably since he had never really seen anyone with black hair before, or maybe it was due to the fact that her pretty eyes were accompanied by a slightly wide nose and fingertips that had the same texture as raisins. How odd. He cocked his head to the side, biting his lower lip in caution as he continued to observe — the only thing he could do in spite of his initial shock, surprise and fear. “How may I help you today?” The woman asked as she adjusted the sides of her navy jacket to allow more air into her arms. In an instant, Alfred snapped out of his dream-like enchantment, closing his mouth almost immediately as he sat upright, adjusting his tie while looking at her. She said nothing. He said nothing. Overwhelmingly loud silence was in the air. She cleared her throat, moving the stack that was made of smaller, more slender cards towards her, enshrouding them with the small shadow of the seemingly oversized jacket that draped over her shoulders. Before she had the chance to ask again, Alfred spoke, suddenly regaining his obnoxiously high confidence after the brief moment of silence that was in between them for a while. “I want my fortune told!” He demanded quite frankly, a manner that the lady was not accustomed to hearing it seemed. She widened her eyes, exposing more of her murky hazel eyes that sparkles whenever she showed intense spikes of emotion. She cleared her throat again, covering her mouth as she coughed heavily. Sighing, she sat up, regaining her calm and relaxed composure as she looked at him directly in the eye for a few more seconds.

 

“That will be forty coins, please,” she replied in a manner that matched Alfred’s confidence and frankness. He widened his eyes as his jaw hung wide open again for a brief second before quickly fishing out his coin pouch and handing her the amount she requested for. This time, her eyes sparkled, even more, forming a nebula of stars in her gaze. Her fingertips ran along the edges of the coins, hesitantly and awkwardly accepting the payment as she opened the tips jar and poured the coins inside. It was strange, he thought, didn’t the rumours say she would be faster than this, not only that, wouldn’t she speak more of her “magical nonsense” about fate and destiny? Don’t  _ all _ fortune tellers do that, the fake ones at least? Alfred furrowed his brows together as he rubbed the base of his chin. Out of habit, he would crouch forward and look at her head on, his sky blue eyes attempting to pierce through her facade -- her awkward act. Cold sweat dripped down the sides of his face as he spoke to her again, taking on a tone that was firm and laced with certainty and authority, “Just what’s your deal, dude?” She gasped, widening her eyes as she prepared a stack of cards she had yet to shuffle around for him. Flustered, she stammered and tripped on her words, her light, airy voice cracking every once in a while as her fingers pierced through the surface of the deck of cards, causing each card to slip and spill onto the table. “W-what do you mean?” She asked, her voice cracking on the surface, revealing a voice that was sounded peaceful, gentle and masculine. “A man’s voice, huh? So…” Alfred muttered, attempting to piece the puzzle together as he constantly rubbed the bae of his chin out of habit. 

 

“So?” She continued, her voice suddenly returning to her out of anxiety.

 

“Oh, nothing’s up — it’s cool. From where I’m from, lots of women sound like men and lots of men sound like women!” Alfred chuckled innocently, stretching his arms, relieved that it was nothing more but mere speculation. He offered her a smile and she returned it with one of her own as her fingers played with the end of her side white braid. After seeing a reassuring nod from her customer, she shuffled the cards accordingly to how she would normally do. Still, her hands were shaky, her mouth was slightly agape even though she constantly pursed her lips, cold air escaped her lips as she glanced over at the detailed pictures appearing on each card. Each picture on the card seemed to be its own painting, with minimalist colour schemes of white, black and one pop of colour (usually blood red, lemon yellow or cobalt blue). As for the cards that did not give people nightmares with just a single glance at it, they usually depicted a human, a god, a mythical creature or an oddly detailed illustration of an animal in a distinct scenario that captured their personalities, values and symbolism, none of which were easily understood by anyone other than Arthur, probably, Alfred thought. At the bottom, of each card were words of the English language. She shuffled through them, not giving a single card no more than a single passing glance that would be void of emotion and bias. He continued watching in awe as her movements were artistic and graceful, flowing smoothly from one transition to another like water. Her eyes were closed as if to allow all of her energy to be channelled into a single action. Unlike his usual self, he made no further attempt to speak, preferring to watch it properly and to stare at her with stars of his own in his eyes.

 

“Your name?” She asked awkwardly, her cheeks flushing a bright shade of red as she looked at the gap in between his eyebrows. He hummed and smiled brightly and politely. “ Alfred F. Jones !” He beamed, his smile stretching from ear to ear. She heaved in deeply, a brighter shade of red blossomed on her face as she struggled to find the words to say to him. Instead of trying to find the words to say, she kept her head low meekly and slid a few cards out of the deck and laid them on the table. After that, she stretched her hand out and grabbed a long cylindrical bottle with a diamond top. Flicking it off, pale blue smoke began to fill the air, which she brushed away with her hands. “Why you need your fortune told?” She asked, her voice soft and quiet. Her seemingly small frame and voice trembled in fear as she looked up at him. “I’m going on a journey in three days and I want to know if I’d die before, during or after that!” He replied brightly, still retaining his signature smile that confused the daylights out of her. In response, her left eye twitched and her lips began to form a tight straight line. “Y-you’re serious…” She coughed out with her eyes widening an jaw hanging loosely, her head bobbing back and forth as it spun airly like a carousel. He nodded again, holding his hands together like an overexcited child who had too much coffee. His face brightened with excitement as so did his manner of speaking as he spilt his million and one reasons for showing up in the first place, albeit one of those was that he got lucky to find a fortune teller in what he deemed to be, “The Middle of Nowhere”. She coughed, clearing her throat when Alfred had finally finished speaking. “Where are you going in three days… Jones?” She asked, hoping to enlighten the atmosphere while she still could despite the ever-growing anxiety that mounted in her as she laid the cards out in a neat line in front of him.

 

“Oh! There’s a kingdom that’s really far away called the  _ Avorio _ ! It’s rumoured that all the buildings there are made of Ivory -- you know, the thing people kill elephants and rhinos for! Kinda sad. But it’s really pretty and it’s full of green plants and cheap stuff that’s super duper rare in other parts of the world like Ivory, Moonstones and Truffles! Pretty sure there are olives there too but that’s just a thing people say when they’re wasted or something like that,” he explained, cocking his head to one side as he attempted to recall the information that Arthur had told him days before arriving there in “The Middle of Nowhere”. She widened her eyes in interest, humming along as he spoke of the kingdom she had never heard of before. He stopped his ramblings halfway to notice a blue liquid being poured over the cards and then vapourising to fine mist as if it never happened. Noticing his shock, she explained calmly, “No need worry. I know your fate now.” He leaned forward, his eyebrows raising upwards in suspicion as he stared at the way she flipped the cards over to reveal familiar pictures and words. There were five cards laid out neatly in front of him. The first card had a picture of a man flinging a javelin into the sky with the word, “STRENGTH” written at the bottom; the second card had a picture of a female archer aiming for an apple atop of a queen’s head with the word, “REBELLION” written at the bottom; the third card had the picture of an Archer Fish with the word, “SNIPER” written at the bottom of the card; the fourth and fifth cards were blank with the exception of a graphic painting of a skull with blood flowing out of its eye sockets and ivy vines covering its surface with its roots and leaves. The words written at the bottom of the cards were “WAR” and “DEATH”, respectively. Worry came over the both of them as they stared at the last two cards, struggling to find the right words to say.

 

“I guess the best is saved for last, huh?” Alfred remarked jokingly, a half-hearted smile appearing on his face as he shrugged, unable to hide the fear burning through his veins.

 

“T-this is impossible! F-fate c-can’t be like this!” She growled, clenching her teeth and jaw as she glared at the cards, immediately knowing their true meaning. She extended her fingers out and flung the table cover away with seething rage, letting everything fly everywhere. The plant fell to the ground, causing dirt to spill everywhere. The tips jar shattered into a million pieces. The rest of the cards flew everywhere like confetti and created a mess on the ground. The five cards still rested on the table, unmoving and unchanging in motion as if they weigh a million pounds and physics was on their side. She extended her fingers out, her fingernails extending out slightly to appear like tiny claws that resemble those of a cat. She dug them into the table, creating deep line marks as she moved them downwards. In less than a few seconds, she created ten small deep trenches halfway filled with scalding blood. Tears appeared at the sides of her eyes, moving downwards and burning her makeup as well as the surface of her flesh, staining a bright pink. Alfred stared in confusion, biting his lip as he sat still silently. He trembled, his eyes were filled with fear as she murmured curses in a foreign language. As he continued to watch, black spirits appeared to appear behind her, surrounding her as if they were her comrades -- her children in general. They had bright red eyes and wide crescent moon shaped smiles as they conversed with her, or their “brother” as they referred to her as such. With all of the courage he struggled to muster up, he asked meekly with a soft voice, “E-excuse me… Are you okay, miss?” She noticed him with lightning speed and widened her eyes, clearing her throat and muttered another spell in the same foreign language, causing the black spirits to fly away, into a small black hole from one of the skulls in the potted plants that hung beside her.

 

She grabbed a few bandages and promptly wrapped the tips of her fingers; she fished out a towel and wiped the table clean. As much as she tried to downplay their significance, there were veins popping from her temples and the sides of her neck. Adam’s apple bulged from her neck as she began to cough while fiddling with strands of hair at the back of her head. With enough effort, the white part of her hair flowed off like a stream, leaving behind a short, black bowl cut with strands of hair at the sides of “her” face. “S-sir…” Alfred whispered, his eyes full to the brim with compassion and sympathy as he watched the person he thought was a lady take the jacket off to reveal a plain grey shirt with slender arms that had muscles decently toned. He sat down again, sighing while covering his face as he wept warm tears that continued to leave red marks on his white as snow complexion. His face was wet with tears and drenched with melancholy as he moved his hand over the cards, to suck the magic out of them it seemed as he was able to flip them normally like regular old cards, much to Alfred’s surprise. “Your fortune, A-Alfred,” he muttered, his voice cracking softly under his own pressure and hurt as he allowed Alfred to examine him and the cards one last time before his imminent doom it seemed. “Y-you are a strong man and you don’t like to listen… You like do whatever you want, don’t care about what others say even if it kills you… That’s why you’re here, right?” He continued, with each word he spoke, his voice feathered to become softer and raspier. He huffed, hoping each second he could buy would prolong his need to talk. Alfred looked at his eyes, seeing nothing but fear. He had the eyes of a man who was afraid of death -- a dead man with everything to lose. As the tears dried up, his willingness to hold himself back increased exponentially, weighing his words down as he constantly glanced down at the cards. 

 

“This journey you’re going on. Everything is good. You have a lot of food. You have e-everything, even a caring guide who worries lots for you… But you’re going to die… I-I don’t know how. There seems to be a war on the  _ Seide _ ocean. It would kill you, prob-probably a sniper would shoot you (probably by mistake). I-I can see your guide p-panicking and demand the captain to go to America… But they too late. Bullet hit major artery and you died rather quickly -- in the moment,” he replied, continuing to be soft and gentle with his words. He looked down, tears began to fill his eyes again as he fumbled with his fingers worriedly. His cheeks were flushed a bright red as he stacked the five cards neatly and placed them on one side of the table. Once again, he lifted his head up to look at Alfred, somewhat hoping to see a look of worry, sadness or perhaps a look of anger or emptiness, anything would have been all right in his book. He bit his lip, held onto the edge of his seat so tightly that his knuckles turned snow white. He could taste cold sweat at the edges of his dry lips as Alfred took his time to compile his words together into something that was easy to understand. “Well… That’s a shame… Well, a hero triumphs above his odds and will do anything to be the best and to win, right? I’ll be the best! Because I am nothing but the best hero ever lived! Oh hail, America!” He proclaimed, extending his arms out and punching the air with his fists. The other man looked at him, his eyes and jaw wide open as he fumbled for his words and belongings that fell on the ground. He did his best to persuade him, to steer him in the “right” direction with his emotions. 

 

“This man should be absolutely furious and upset… Some guy told him he’s going to die in near future,” the fortune teller muttered as he shook his head in despair and denial. Sensing his despair, Alfred turned to him and smiled brightly from ear to ear, his laugh lines deep with pure enjoyment as he spoke. “Y-you… You so happy. Why?” The fortune demanded to know as his eyebrows were furrowed into a heavy, thick line as he glanced over at the man whose face was now a vibrant shade of red. His blonde locks shone with whatever light that seemed to come in, he finally realised and understood him well enough to know the answer to his own question. “I mean, should I be upset? I can change fate, can’t I?” He asked, his eyebrows now raised as he cocked his head to one side in curiosity. The fortune teller squinted his eyes as he kept his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed as if to refuse to answer his question. He fiddled with the choppy edges of his black hair that ended just beneath his ears, uneasy of feeling his bare neck when in business, especially with a customer in front of him. He took in a deep breath and replied rather simply, “Yes. I have seen and predicted many fates being changed because of a decision or a change in resolve and heart. I believe in it. But your fate, Alfred -- I mean Jones! It’s… something…” The fortune teller refused to continue as the process of how the man ended up in his deathbed brought hot tears to his eyes, which trickled down the contours of his face, leaving behind more red lines and scars as he wept again. Empathetically, Alfred leaned over and fished out a handkerchief and wiped the tears away with a gentle and somewhat loving touch. 

 

“What-what are you doing, Jones?” The fortune teller croaked, his calm demeanour dissolving to nothing as Alfred continued to wipe his tears away.

 

“I’ll explain! But before that, what’s your name?” He asked, the brightness in his eyes never dulling, darkening or disappearing.

 

“Kiku.  Honda Kiku,” the fortune teller replied, heaving heavily in between words as he hesitantly moved away from Alfred’s soft handkerchief and fingertips.

 

“All right, then! Let me introduce myself again: hello, the name’s Alfred F. Jones! You can call me, Alfred, Kiku! I’m heading off in three days and for some reason, I’ll probably die on the way to  _ Avorio  _ but that’s okay since the last person I’ve seen in my dreams would be absolutely beautiful and heavenly and I have done everything I want to do, so…” He replied, his movements airy and free as if he was controlled by the wind and not by careful thought. Kiku widened his eyes as he leaned forward as well, staring at him in awe for the first time. There was a bright, beautiful nebula of stars glimmering in his murky hazel eyes as he attempted to reciprocate Alfred’s smile to the best of his ability despite his fear. “This was the man I would see before I die, huh, at least he’s quite handsome… Not bad for me,” Kiku mumbled to himself as he got off his seat to tidy up the mess on the floor. He crouched down, his knees planted on the floor as he tidied everything up, his fingers aching and drying up. He felt his face burn an intense bright red as he picked things up and placed them back on the table; it was a pretty intense and horrible feeling for him -- he had never felt this hot in ages. Kiku gathered up his courage and never brought himself to look at the handsome American; he fumbled with the jars and the cards as tears appeared in his eyes. Alfred constantly kept his gaze on the man who cleaned the floor like Cinderella back in the day. He cocked his head to the side while leaning in closer as if to study Kiku closer like he was a unique piece of art he had never really seen before. “Hey, Kiku… Why do you dress like a chick?” Alfred asked, rather frankly. Kiku widened his eyes as he kept his gaze fixed on the plant pot that fell over.

 

All of a sudden, the atmosphere felt cold and tensed, forcing Alfred to sit upright in his seat. 

 

Kiku chuckled, a soft smile appearing on his face as he picked the pot up and placed it back in his original place on the table. “Why do you ask?” Kiku asked again, his mannerisms oddly calm and relaxed as his posture loosened up. Alfred gulped, feeling a rush of anxiety flow through him as he forced himself to look into Kiku’s eyes that quickly resembled dark steel -- the kind that barely shimmered no matter how much light shone on it. “It’s just… Well, sure you’re a cute chick but you look better as a dude like you’re kinda hot,” Alfred gulped. Kiku began to laugh, his smile warm and nervous as he sat down in his chair and crossed his legs. His gaze was averted to the side, his eyes blank and void of life as they made eye contact. Kiku smiled and nodded again, keeping his composure intact. He rested the side of his head on the side of his wrist; the dull look in his gaze brightened up to appear more humanly as he cleared his throat. “Thanks. But… The history from here is rough and it doesn’t let men do magic freely… I… I never had to face any of it… I’m very lucky,” he explained, fear seeping deep into the pores of his skin as he spoke to Alfred, his eyes bright with worry and anxiety. Kiku stood up from his seat and walked around the perimeter of the tent, hoping that there were no gaps in between the fabric for any sound or light to escape. He moved his fingers slightly, letting fairy dust come and gather along any loose ends of the seams. Because of this, loose string clumped together, forming a thick substance along tears and holes in the fabric. He sat down again, placing his hands on the table like a prim and proper businessman.

 

“Men aren’t meant to practice magic; wizards are difficult to come by, I’ll tell you that much. I was born with magic in my blood; many others train to develop magic but we’re all the same -- we were not meant to be here -- we were not meant to exist. A wizard declared a war on this kingdom, killing the royal family and killing the rest in a massive sweep, many regular people and magic users were killed (mostly women), if not for the many witches and soldiers who saved us all. Because of that… Wizards are hated, witches are loved. But still… It feels so horrible to be here… I’m a single child so my mother hated me doing magic since I could be exiled forever. I didn’t really care (unfortunately), I just wanted to do magic and if I have to dress as a woman… Then I will become a woman, for the sake of my magic,” he explained, his eyes filled with tears again. He shook his head and pulled away from Alfred’s gentle touch that was coming from his fingers. He laughed sullenly, his smile forced. Alfred grinned, nodding in understanding as he looked at the man in the eye. Pressure pressed down on both men while they continued to look at each other. “I… I… I want to be a free wizard, that’s kind of it. I don’t like owning different names. It feels like I’m selling myself. I’m Honda Kiku, that’s my real name. Please believe and trust me, Alfred. I am not a fake,” Kiku begged, his gaze begging. His lips formed a frown as sadness overwhelmed his features and body, causing them to shrivel up and become faint and limp. Alfred chuckled and ruffled through Kiku’s hair, appreciating the honest and intelligent aura that emanated from him. He nodded, putting his hat back on as he stood up and extended his hand outwards for him.

 

“Kiku, I like you. Would you help me change my fate?” Alfred asked, a grin appearing on his face. 

 

Kiku widened his eyes in shock as he stared at him but quickly changed his resolve and stood up as well, shaking his hand. “Do I have to go with you?” He asked, half-heartedly knowing the answer already as he released his grip on his hand.

 

“Yes. Yes, please. I’ll see you outside this place tomorrow at dawn. Also, Kiku… You don’t need to own different names out at sea, you just need to be honest,” Alfred beamed and walked away from Kiku with a warm, tender and sincere chuckle that rendered him absolutely speechless. What a man.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks much for reading... I have no idea that I would love this story a lot but I guess, well... if you guys want it to be continued then let me know, I guess? Well... Have a great day, ahead, byes, byes, byes, byes!


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